


Registered

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sex Club, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A part of the Eden Club case.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Registered

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The time is ticking down in big block letters, always in the corner of Connor’s vision, spurring him to march across the club without any hesitation. He ignores Hank’s disgruntled griping and the odd looks from other cops, fortunately free of patrons in the wake of the murder. While Hank’s still awkwardly dissuading the last rented Traci from following him around, Connor beelines for a dancer, clamping onto her wrist in the middle of her spin. She saunters to a halt, turning her blank stare to him. Connor’s skin peels back, and just like that, he’s _in her mind_ , watching her flip around her pole with ease. 

She didn’t see anything. It doesn’t necessarily mean the suspect didn’t walk by, because this particular dancer was too busy watching her own heels to record anything useful. Connor lets go of her, and she resumes her lifeless gyration. Chris has wandered back into the club, reporting something to Hank that Connor doesn’t wait to hear. He swerves into the red room, scanning the rows of transparent tubes and instantly calculating which has the best view of the entrance. A broad, muscular male Traci with pale skin and dark hair is already out near the center stage, undergoing a flustered-sounding investigation from Gavin Reed. Connor pauses for a fraction of a second, noting that anomaly—the last time Reed questioned a suspect, he was ready to use violence, and now he seems to be spluttering aimlessly over basic questions like, “Did you see anything?”

The Traci replies, “My optical sensors are fully functional. Would you like me to disable them for our session?”

Reed’s face flushes a bright pink beneath his scars and stubble, his wide eyes darting to Connor before he snaps, “This isn’t a session, dipshit!” The Traci doesn’t look any more bothered by Reed’s insults than Connor is. 

Connor judges that Reed’s line of questioning is ineffective. Under normal circumstances, he’d take Reed aside and politely explain that, but as he only has two minutes and forty-seven seconds left, he acts first. He steps up to them, reaching out and grabbing on to the Traci—it turns to look at Connor and offers a simple smile. 

Connor dives into the Traci’s memory banks and rewinds back past Reed’s questioning, past Reed smoothing his hand across the android’s chest, feeling the android’s pectoral plates, rubbing over the android’s hyper-realistic nipples, past Reed’s eyes darting down to the android’s boxer-briefs that are practically painted on and leave nothing to the imagination. Then the android’s parked in his station, and Reed’s eyeing him through the glass, staring at his clothed cock and shooting a furtive glance towards the entrance before hurriedly punching in the rental. 

The blue-haired Traci Connor’s looking for is nowhere to be found. But he doesn’t exit just yet. He lets the memory play forward and tells himself that he’s watching because it could be useful to know what questions Reed asked. It might pertain to the investigation. Reed stepped back to let the Traci out, and then Reed leaned in just enough to inhale and shiver. He licked his lips and asked, _“So, you’ll really do anything I want, tin-can...?”_

 _“Whatever you like, Sir,”_ the android answered, head tilting down and taking in all of Gavin Reed—examining his trim body, his small stature, the dark circles beneath his eyes and the hunger in his mouth—scanning him to pick up his name, his age, prior kinks listed with club membership. The words: _likes to be dominated_ scroll through Connor’s coding. _Likes to have his hair pulled. Dislikes being called ‘short’._

It’s all happening in a heartbeat. Technically, in the confines of Connor’s incredibly quick mind, he can afford to stop long enough to read everything the Traci saw, everything the Traci thought of Reed, all filtered through such a different program than the one Connor lives by. He suddenly sees Reed as a _sexual_ subject, something to play with and _be pleasured_ , and he watches Reed ask, _“How hard could you fuck me...?”_

Then Connor’s seeing himself rounding the corner, and Reed’s straightening up, tensing and twitching and blurting out, _“This is an official investigation; cooperate or you’ll be detained!”_ And Connor experiences the Traci’s confusion, because Reed’s file says _he’s_ the one that likes to be put in handcuffs. 

The memory over, Connor lets go. He’s standing back in the real world, and Reed’s staring at him, a complicated mix of human _emotions_ on his face: rage, embarrassment, horror, and a dozen other things that Connor can’t pick apart. 

Reed sucks in a breath and growls, face almost comically distressed in contrast, “I can handle questioning it myself, you plastic prick! Hands off! Find your own witness!” And Connor realizes that Reed hasn’t put together just how Connor’s interfacing works. 

Because there’s only thirty seconds left, Connor doesn’t stop to explain it. That’s something to deal with later. Like the knowledge that Gavin Reed prefers particularly large, silicone cocks. 

A janitor emerges in Connor’s peripherals. As his vision was unlikely to be blocked by horny customers, he just might have seen something. Connor pauses just long enough to warn the Traci, “Please exercise restraint when utilizing his anus; he has work tomorrow at ten a.m. and will need to be able to walk adequately.” Then Connor’s marching off while Reed’s still gaping, gone after the blue-haired Traci before Reed’s fury explodes.


End file.
